


Trapped

by Elf_From_Frozen_Forest



Series: Trapped [1]
Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Gren and Runaan: Two Bros Chillin' in a Dungeon (The Dragon Prince), Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Torture, Runaan Origin Story in Framework of his Capture, Torture, but in dungeon yeah, i hope it makes sense, i mean from Runaan POV they are certainly evil, lol is it really a tag, not chilling though, pretty much evil Viren and Claudia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23664271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elf_From_Frozen_Forest/pseuds/Elf_From_Frozen_Forest
Summary: While being trapped in Viren’s dungeon, Runaan can’t help but remember everything that led him there. His youth, Ethari – his first and only love, their step-daughter Rayla... He can’t help but think – where all this went so wrong?Basically, it’s a Runaan origin story in the frame of his custody in Viren’s dungeon. I’ve just re-watched TDP and I am mesmerized by his character.Warning! – Explicit rating for the graphic sexual content and description of torture and killing (no rape though). I will try to warn before that kind of content, but you should be aware before reading that it’s a pretty dark story.
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Gren & Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Rayla & Runaan (The Dragon Prince), Runaan (The Dragon Prince) & Other(s)
Series: Trapped [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703935
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1. Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Viren’s prison Runaan waits for his inevitable death. He is sure that the dark mage and the girl will not grant him an easy passing. 
> 
> Warning! – graphic description of assassination (in accordance with TDP canon).

The charmed band caused him pain, but it was fine. Sometimes Runaan was even grateful for it. His only companions were blinding darkness and continuous, somehow still stinging pain. _Old friends,_ Runaan thought grimly. 

It was good. It was familiar and foreseeable, very much unlike his current situation. The cell in the secret corridor in the castle of men was as good as stone grave that men are burying their dead in. The mere thought relished of grim acceptance of the death without the last sight of the moon. But Runaan was not so naive to think that someone will try and rescue him from this dungeon. No one would even know where to look for him. If only… Runaan pushed the thought away. She would not come after him after everything that happened. The squeezing band on his arm only proved that fact. 

The big part of pain caused by the band was not even physical. The fact that he miscalculated hurt much, much more. Ethari, his beloved crafter without any special training in personality reading, turned out to be right, and Runaan, the skilful killer and leader of the assassin squad, was wrong. She wasn’t ready and it was not a secret for Runaan — no one ever was ready to kill — but he thought that she could get over herself and do what was necessary. 

Ethari knew that she couldn’t do it. And probably never will be able to. 

“She has protective instincts of her parents,” his husband told him the night before they left for the mission. Runaan stayed in the bed just looking – Ethari was beautiful, standing naked in the moonlight near the window of their bedroom. 

“ _We_ are her parents,” Runaan leaned on the soft pillows admiring the way Ethari’s skin lines and horns gleamed in the moonlight. “In every way that matters.”

Ethari just smiled ruefully. They both knew it was only partly true but for many years they both made everything so Rayla didn’t feel the absence of her parents. And Runaan and Ethari succeeded, but the shadow of betrayal and cowardice followed them nonetheless. 

Runaan got up from the bed, walked to his husband and kissed him in the nose and then, for much longer, on the lips. “We are going to be alright,” he whispered, wrapping his hands around Ethari’s muscular lower back. “Rayla and I. We will return home, to you, and everything will be as it was before.” 

_Before_ was a time before the death of Dragon King, before the destruction of his only Egg, before men started to use unnatural art of dark magic to gain power for themselves. After all, humans always wanted only power, and the death of king Harrow and his trueborn son should reduce their moves towards it. And Runaan hated humans with all power of his Moonshadow soul for the fact that nothing else could stop them. He hated that nothing less than the death of a child would be equal pay for their crimes against his kinsman. 

Runaan hated humans for never-ending pain and torture of elves and magical creatures of Xadia. For all the things he saw in human lands when being an elf automatically meant to be hunted and killed. And perhaps being torn to pieces after death, never having proper funeral pyre under the moon and, therefore, never getting the peace of afterlife. It was a familiar degree of barbarism. 

What Runaan hated the most was that humans made him lie to Ethari. 

Nothing will ever be the same again. Rayla would never return home, she would not be able to with two human princes and somehow survived Egg. And even if Runaan would somehow escape this stone cell, he never could be an assassin again. His life was gone here in darkness and pain as well as outside with lost freedom and love. 

But it was almost alright because he was already dead. 

And he welcomed death with all the strength of his unbowed soul. 

Somehow Runaan knew that the only person who would understand him right now was the man who became his last target a few days ago.

*** 

Crownguards were almost desperate in their fight against them. One of them, a tall man with sand-coloured hair succeeded in slaying Ollivar, one of the Runaan’s assassins, first. Even with the power of the full Moon in their veins elves still were condemned. 

The power and old law of justice demanding life for life was on their side. The numbers, which in the end were the basic premise of win in any fight, were not. 

_Six, I need all six for this to be a success,_ thought Runaan and somehow was still relieved that Rayla was not there. Giving a last blow to one of Crownsguard with his swords, Runaan saw the light-skinned boy near the window on the other side of the corridor. It was one of the two human boys who were with Rayla on the castle wall. 

The boy watched the fight with terrified and somehow troubled expression, as if not knowing what to do: run away or run into the fight in a desperate attempt to save his father’s life. Jumping out of the way of another Crownsguard’s blade Runaan still tried to watch the boy. He knew that he would not hesitate to kill if the human fool chose the latter. But thanks to the Moon, the next time Runaan looked to the window, the boy was gone. 

_Clever human,_ he thought with a feeling close to relief. He jumped to the wall and made himself ready for another strike. Time to end their mission had come. 

The fight near the King’s chambers continued with desperate frustration. The remaining four elves, including Runaan, were still faster and stronger, especially with the help of moonlight, but their advantage slowly weakened under the strikes of human guards. And all this time Crownguards managed to keep the doors closed, and Runaan saw that he should think of something and quickly. 

All the time of the battle outside of the King’s chambers the man with a magical looking staff stood nearby, not interfering with a fight. His eyes were dark, cold and calculating, and Runaan could not see what he was doing. He was sure that the mage wasn’t casting any spells and couldn’t help to ask himself, why. 

The shriek of the familiar voice made him turn back – Aurora lied on the ground, choking on her blood. The arrow was buried in her throat, and it was clear that the end was near. 

“Go with the blessing of the Six”, whispered Runaan under his breath, bowing forward to cut another human’s throat. He felt the sparkles of fury underneath his skin. Humans killed two in his squad. Ollivar’s and Aurora’s motionless bodies laid under guard’s feet, and Runaan let his anger show himself. Severed hand of another Crownguard flew away, while Runaan pushed his blades deep into his body. 

“For the blood of Xadia,” he hissed, looking in the guard’s pale face.

“Runaan!” somebody called him, and when he looked to the door, Kael had already killed the nearest guard to the door. 

That was their chance, the clear path to the king. Bowing low, Runaan jumped forward, praying to the magic of the world to save him from dark spells of the mage. But when he found himself near the door and looked to the other side of the corridor, the mage was already gone. 

The five Crownguards still fought remaining two of the Runaan’s squad, but the main path was clear. Runaan pushed the door, which, surprisingly, was unlocked. He almost stumbled on his feet from exhaustion and blood loss, but managed to walk upright. 

He went into the room, holding onto his blades which again turned to the bow and fetching an arrow between his fingers. 

King Harrow of Katolis stood in his plate armour, looking out of the window on the full moon. Runaan half-expected to find there only empty room or another pack of Crownsguard. But the King was there and he did not even turn to Runaan when the door opened and shut again. His dark face was seen clearly in the moonlight, and the quiet, yet undefeated expression made Runaan squeeze the arrow in his hand. 

“You came after me, I believe,” the King said. His tall figure stood out against the deep dark-blue sky. 

Runaan quickly glanced around, and then slowly made a few steps. “Yes,” he said, refusing to look in the face of the man with anything but cold detachment. 

The King sighed and finally turned to Runaan. His hand was on the hilt of his sword. “They grew desperate, I see,” he told quietly, almost to himself. He looked directly into Runaan’s eyes. “Can I at least die like an honourable man – in a fight instead of being slain by the hand of an assassin?” 

Some deep part of Runaan was almost fascinated with such boldness. But the anger and memory of dead Dragon King was closer to the edge. 

“You don’t deserve it,” Runaan spit out, drawing a bow. “That’s why Dragon Queen sent us.”

Runaan expected many different things from humans. He saw his aims cry, kneel, just stare in darkness, not even being able to comprehend their death. He saw them angered, desperate, crawling in the dirt, falling gracelessly or burning alive in fever after his poisoned arrows. He saw fright in their eyes and accepted it. He was just deliverer of their destiny, taking life and giving death. 

He did not expect King Harrow to smile. 

Runaan narrowed his eyes. He waited, bow and arrows in his hands, waiting for the King to make a move and protect himself. But he didn’t, and Runaan’s hidden fascination grudgingly turned to be a hesitant respect. He had to admit, King Harrow knew how to face death. 

“If you were sent by the Queen, I accept my fate,” the king said. 

The sounds of battle outside became louder. Runaan held on to the arrow tight. 

The azure eyes met brown ones. Someone screamed outside. The King made a deep breath, and Runaan shoot. 

The human king fell heavily with all his armour. The arrow was buried deep into his chest, broken through the plate. Runaan drew a bow another time, ready to end the mission and shoot another one. He came closer, looking down on the dying King. 

“My sons,” the King said hoarsely, with strange, bubbling sound from his throat. “Did you find them?” 

Runaan watched him carefully. _I had already taken his life,_ he thought. _There’s no need for cruelty._

“I did,” Runaan told in quiet voice. “They managed to escape.” 

Something that looked like relief flashed in the eyes of a dying man. 

Runaan looked on his hand. The band was still silver. 

Runaan was ready to shoot another arrow to stop his heart, but the door burst open and four Crownguards were in the room, shouting something to him or the King. Runaan allowed his instincts to lead him and started to fight again. Now he was sure that he won’t make it out of the castle. But it was in his future, and in the present he had another battle to win. 

When a couple of minutes later he stumbled out to the gallery under the silver light of the full Moon, everyone in King’s chambers were dead. The blood-red Arrow, Message of Death, made by his husband sang in Runaan's hand, when he drew it from behind his back. 

The reddened band fell off his hand – mission was completed. Releasing the Arrow, Runaan prayed for to arrive safely at Storm Spire. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ten points to whichever Hogwarts House you're in, to anyone who guessed that the author of this work is not a native English speaker! 
> 
> I mean, I think it's quite obvious from the text, so if anyone would like to point out my inevitable mistakes, you're most welcome.
> 
> I plan the next update on Saturday, 04/18/20.


	2. Chapter 2. Chains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some familiar faces appear in Runaan’s memory and real life.

Runaan returned to the reality abruptly, as if someone punched him in the abdomen. He wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be true, but when he opened his eyes, he was still alone in his cell. 

Still somewhere between life and death. 

Not for long though - the sound of key cracking in the lock was clear, and Runaan knew that it was the real reason of his sudden awakeness. His instincts still reminded that he was alive. 

_This could have been worse,_ Runaan reminded himself. _The torture could have been worse. They could turn me into something unnatural with dark magic. They still were nowhere near the true savagery._

The door opened, letting dim light full the rectangular shape of his cell’s door. Runaan warily glanced at the intruder and looked away when the dark-haired girl appeared on the doorstep. She was holding something in her hands, and Runaan made himself not to move.

_I shall show them no fear,_ he thought, listening to the sounds of her light steps. _They don’t deserve my fear. Even with their corrupt magic and other human tricks._

Her dress rustled somewhere close. 

“I’ve brought you food, elf,” she said from above. “You will need some energy.” 

I don’t need your handouts! – almost hissed Runaan, but he managed to catch himself on the tongue.

_Don’t talk,_ reminded him the inner voice that sounded awfully similar to Neman’s. _Silence is the best answer to interrogation. They won’t have a chance to lure something out of you by accident._

The sound of something liquid running made Runaan lookup. The girl was pouring something into the cup. She noticed his glance and smiled with a hint of wickedness. 

“Thirsty, huh?” she asked. “You are lucky I convinced my dad that you can be useful, elf. Or you would have been long dead.” 

_I’d prefer to be dead,_ Runaan thought grimly, once again looking away. 

“You can have it,” she kneeled before him and almost stuck the cup under his nose. It had something that looked like water. “But only with my help. Will you drink, elf? It’s just water, I promise”. 

Runaan looked at her with all loathing he could muster. Trust her promise? She thinks he’s an idiot? 

“The food is also for you, you know,” she continued with that infuriatingly light tone. “But the deal is the same. I am not going to unbound your hands, and that means you can't eat without my help. Wanna bite?” she took an apple from the plate and brought it under his nose. 

Runaan just closed his eyes and let himself turn away from her, as far as his chains let him. He hoped he made his answer clear enough. 

“Not talking type, huh?” she muttered. “Well, we’ll see how long your stubbornness will endure.” 

_You can’t even imagine,_ thought Runaan. She really could not. 

When he opened his eyes again, she was gone, and the door was closed, but the plate with apple was still on the floor. 

*** 

“Just for the record,” Runaan angrily whispered to Lain. “It’s completely your fault that we are stuck here with them.” 

The young generation of future elf warriors jumped and sprinted around the lawn, while some of the most jumpy already made it to the trees and were merrily swinging from the branches. Runaan’s throat was already hoarse from the shouting, but children seemed to be used to the shouting teachers. 

“Don’t remind me, Run!” Lain was red-faced and sweaty too, while struggling with a feisty four-year-old, who seemed to think that he was being played to. “Another hour, and I’m going to give my soul to the Moon.” 

“Come here,” sighed Runaan, stretching his hands to take the wiggling child from his best friend’s back. The youngling merrily jumped into Runaan’s lap and immediately started to inspect Runaan’s horns. Runaan suppressed a harsh sound and stoically let the young play. 

“Yours are so smooth,” the child shared with a hint of fascination. 

“Thank you,” managed Runaan and then carefully withdrawn the child from his lap. 

“Alright, kids!” sounded the resounding voice from the opposite side of the lawn. “It’s enough for today!” 

The children miraculously quietened and quickly gathered around tall elf with a piercing glance of dark eyes and dark-purple skin. 

“Let’s say thank you to the Master Runaan and Master Lain,” continued the elf, sternly looking at two dishevelled young elves.

“Thank you, Master Runaan and Master Lain,” uneven children’s voices chorused. 

“Now off you go!” Children were gone in a blink of an eye. Runaan heavily sat on the ground, Lain collapsed nearby. Almost everything hurt, and it was hardly a midnight thought Runaan with a shudder. He wanted to sleep and never, ever wake up. 

Judging by the groan of Lain, his thoughts on the matter were similar. 

“Come on, lazy-daisies, stand up,” master Neman was unrelenting, and Runaan rubbed his forehead, bracing himself for another circle of torture. “Another class will be there soon.” 

“It is not everything?” horror in Lain’s voice was genuine. Runaan chuckled and rose, feeling his unsteady legs.

“There is another class”, Neman told them. “And after that you can go. Now go pick up your training blades”

“I agree,” sighed Lain, walking with Runaan to the training lawn and picking up the theme of long-forgotten conversation. “We definitely never, ever piss Neman off again”. 

Master Neman’s means of punishment always were… creative, mused Runaan, correcting a grip of an elf couple years younger than himself. Being an assassin in the past, Neman was now the main instructor of all Moonshadow youngsters in fighting and martial arts. And a damn good teacher, especially with those who went above the basic level of fighting for self-protection. Future assassins and fighters learned from him almost everything of use, since even being in his sixties, Neman was terrific with blades and also really hated being interrupted by a pair of two jarhead of pupils. 

Runaan nodded encouragingly to student whose grip on the blade was now correct and went to look at another pair. The second hour of the training was ending and Runaan did everything he could not to start yawning. Neman’s point in this punishment was clear as moonlight: teachers work much more and tire even without interruptions and disobedient students. 

The girl in the other pair was good, really good in tricking her opponent into stumbling upon his legs. She was good at tricking but Runaan quickly saw the problem: she was too absorbed in playing to actually pay attention to her goal. 

“Less bouncing, more focus,” he said to the girl, who was jumping out of the way of her partner’s blade. “You are fidgeting too much and don’t see your opponent.” 

The girl tripped over her own leg after hearing that. Her falling was graceful, but the glare that she shot at Runaan while rising on her legs, was murderous. 

“See?” Runaan quirked an eyebrow. “You lost control and then the battle.” 

“I fell because of you!” she was angered even more. “This is my style, and if you have something against it, go there and have a duel with me!” 

Runaan rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to just turn away and go. That would be… inappropriate. 

“I do not fight with children,” he clarified. 

“You are only a couple of years older than myself!” she sneered. “So afraid to inevitably lose?” 

Runaan felt how the blood rushed to his cheeks. Not giving any answer, he looked around – where was Lain? What he was supposed to do with that tree-headed girl? Not fight, of course? 

The girl’s opponent looked between two of them with a troubled expression. He was pretty, nonchalantly noted Runaan – with nice brownish shade of skin and soft-looking silver hair. The young elf long ago lowered his blade and went closer to the girl, as if trying to comfort her. 

“I am older than you and I already outgrew the first class of sword fighting,” spat Runaan, losing his patience. “If you can’t listen to an advice, you will never improve!”

“That was an advice? You made me lose!” the girl’s face was read. She looked like she was ready to burst into the tears. 

“Runaan, Tiadrin! What is going on there?” 

Breathless Lain appeared behind the back of really frustrated Neman, whom he, obviously, went to call. 

“Nothing, master Nemam,” quickly said Runaan, feeling Tiadrin’s glare on his face. “I just tried to give her advice, but she took offence.” 

“Tiadrin?” 

“His comment made me lose. He said that I am fidgeting too much and I fell!” she tried to defend herself. 

Neman frowned. “And would have told you the same thing, if I was there,” he said harshly. “He was right – you were fidgeting too much, Tiadrin, and I told you that lots of times. What changed now?” 

“You were never that rude and insensitive about that,” she mumbled. Runaan felt the piercing gaze of Neman on his face. 

“I just… tried to help, honestly,” he said tiredly. The exhaustion finally took him over, made his body feel heavy, but he tried to hold his shoulders straight. 

Neman nodded. “I see,” he said. “Tiadrin, you need to listen to what your instructors tell you. Even if you don’t like it and even if they are of your age. Are we clear?” 

“Yes, master Neman,” she said grumpily. 

“Runaan, you and Lain are free for today. Don’t make me repeat this punishment,” he looked at Runaan and his expression turned from stern to sympathetic. “You are good at this, Runaan,” he said. “You will be an excellent leader one day – just don’t let tiredness choose your words for you. Tomorrow I will see you both on training.” 

“Yes, master.” 

“Thank you,” added Lain and they both went away from the lawn, where Neman started to lecture his students on their mistakes. 

***

“Run, what is _wrong_ with you today?”, Lain asked incredulously, landing on the back for the sixth time through the spar. Runaan lowered the blade and looked around. 

It was the training next week after that day of punishment. Runaan and Lain fought in pair as the other future assassins and fighters. Someone laid their partner on the back too, but no one was so clearly near the edge of fainting as Lain. Runaan felt shame - he did not want to hurt his friend, but his inner frustrations overcame his good intentions. 

Neman only nodded at him approvingly, walking by to the next pair of trainees. Runaan gave his hand to Lain, helping him on his legs. 

“I apologize”, he said sheepishly. “I did not want to…” 

“Make a beating bag out of me?” Lain huffed. “I already feel bad for your targets. If that’s what you do to your buddy-” 

Runaan winced. Tiadrin’s words about his rudeness and insensitivity wounded him deeper than he was ready to admit. He was mulling about it whole week – and couldn’t hold it anymore. 

“Another round?” he asked after an uncertain pause. Lain shook his head, checking bruises on his hands. 

“And being knocked out completely? No, thanks, I want to still be alive the next morning.” 

“Sorry”. 

“You owe me a cup of hot berry wine, and we’ll call it even.” 

To Runaan’s surprise, the wine was easier to get as soon as he was the one to go to the eatery and not Lain. Reputation of a never-having-fun preceded sometimes had its perks. 

“Alright, what wound you up so much?” Lain asked after they sat on the brunch of tree outside of Runaan’s window. The wine was only in his cup. Between young elves laid leaf-plate with fresh cheese, honey and berries. Runaan slowly chewed on the bite of cheese, sipped the water from his own cup and sighed at the question. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Really?” Lain didn’t buy his lie even for one second. “And I was hoping it would be at least worthy of you beating me almost to unconsciousness.” 

Whether Lain was so good at reading him or he was just a lucky sun of shadow hound. Or Runaan was not so good at hiding his emotions as he anticipated. 

It seems, he was actually not good at many things. 

“Am I really like that?” Runaan blurted out. Lain just looked at him over his cup with question in his eyes. “That insensitive, I mean.” 

“Ah,” Lain’s expression became serious. “It really got you, yeah? What that girl said to you.” 

Runaan shrugged. The mere thought of Tiadrin hurt and not because of what she said, but because he could feel that she was right. 

“You’re good friend, Run,” Lain said, squeezing his shoulder and interrupting the flow of runaan’s thoughts. “My best friend. Sometimes you show your bad temper, and your attitude could have been easier, but… that’s who you are, and I like it. You are also the most loyal and honourable person I’ve ever met.” 

“You seem to be the only one who thinks so.” 

Lain choked on his wine and the leaf with cheese and honey almost fell down. Thanks to quick instincts Runaan managed to catch it before it lost all the balance. Lain, the clumsy idiot, just laughed and put his hand over his heart. “I am not! Have you seen how children looked at you while trained them? They admire “the cool Runaan”, you are like a perfect example for them!” 

“I am just patient with them.” Runaan smiled despite his gloomy mood and took another berry. “It’s easy.” 

“Maybe it’s what you need,” said Lain.

Runaan chewed on the lylacberry and looked at him questioningly. 

“Family,” Lain explained his point. “You are good with kids. Start a relationship, after a couple of years have a kid. You’ll be better with someone than on your own.” 

That… actually was a sensible idea. But remembrance of the Neman and his lessons about their role in the service to the community made Runaan kill the thought on the bud. “Even if I wanted to be with... anyone”, he told quietly. “It would be a bad idea.” 

“Why?” 

“I am going to be an assassin. The role is more important than my personal affections.” 

Lain looked at Runaan like he suddenly got another pair of horns on his head. The cup of wine was in his hand, seemingly forgotten. 

“By the Six,” he muttered. “Runaan, I know you longer than anyone aside from your parents, and I know why you think so. But trust me – you’re taking this way too serious.” 

“I am not…” Runaan started, but Lain had no intention to put up with this shit. 

“Yes, you are, dumbass, and I am going to prove that you are wrong. Firstly, there’s no sense in denying himself relationships with others just because of duty.”

“Maybe I’m just bad at them,” Runaan grumbled under his breath. 

“That’s absolutely true, but my point is… Auch!” Lain rubbed his already bruised hand, receiving another sharp nudge. Runaan’s glare could freeze the blood of Sunfire elves. 

“I’m not _that_ bad at relationships!” 

“Yes, you are,” Runaan saw that Lain could barely contain his laugh. “What I’m trying to say while you try to beat me _again_ for my useful advice, what was, I must add, сompletely undeserved, is that you can’t live just for your purpose. You need friendship and love. Everyone does.” 

Runaan shook his head. The sharp edge of fading moon shone above the bunches and leaves of the tree; moonlight touched their ears and horns. 

“I have a friend. Best friend, you”, he said. “That’s enough.” 

“I am flattered, but you are wrong,” Lain said softly. “Without love and companionship one day you will find that there’s nothing in your life worth living. And that would be truly bad news, Runaan. You need someone to love and cherish.” 

Runaan felt hollow beating somewhere in his chest. Leave it to Lain to speak so simple and at the same time poetically about love. 

“I will think about it,” he promised. 

“That’s excellent!” Lain cried, but stopped, noticing the incredulous gaze of Runaan. “Care to share your preferences? Someone pretty and kind? Or cocky and flirty?” 

“No,” Runaan groaned, finally seeing on what he agreed to. Lain the Matchmaker was on the warpath. “Lain, don’t, please!” 

“You can’t run away from your destiny, Run!” 

_“Lain!”_

*** 

The darkness was silent for a few hours. Runaan almost lost himself in memory of his younger years, remembering Lain and their first and not last fight with Tiadrin. Their characters did not click well at first, and only many years later they would finally make their peace. When Tiadrin understood that actually they shared the deep affection towards Lain, it was easy for her and Runaan to tolerate each other differences. 

But now the sensitive ears of elf-assassin caught something new. The distant, almost unnoticeable sound grew with every second in strength and intensity. 

“Let me go! You can’t! General Amaya said that!..” 

“I believe I did not hear anything of what General Amaya said,” the mere sound of the other voice was smug, as if telling a well-known joke. “You will have to wait there for a bit”.

Runaan felt himself tense. That voice he now could recognise easily. 

Viren. The abomination of dark magic and the powerful fool. 

“A bit… How long is that “a bit”?” asked the other man. He was young, the tone was high and uncertain. Runaan almost felt sorry for him, but he was sure that the other prisoner was a man, and not another elf. 

“That depends…” Viren intoned from the corridor. Now his voice was close and clear. The sound of moving metallic chain was heard, and Runaan saw the dark lilac light that poured through the crack between the door and floor of his cell. 

The dark magic. 

“I believe, we will see each other soon,” said Viren and then the sound of his steps disappeared in the distance. 

Runaan waited for something else to happen, but it was fruitless.

To the short list of his companions was added some young male human. 

And Runaan had no way to prove that it was not a trick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually, this chapter should have been longer and end differently, but I looked at the word count and understood that it can easily be split into two. Therefore, a little change in chapter count. 
> 
> The next update is planned on Wednesday, 04/22/20


End file.
